


Feel is one touch away from Flee

by Doitsuki



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Burning Legion - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Legion - Freeform, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Mind Control, The Sequel Nobody Asked For, Villains, alliance: the other other OTHER white meat, demon!khadgar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitsuki/pseuds/Doitsuki
Summary: sequel to the hit crackpot of boiling fuckery 'Fel is One letter away from Feel.' Khadgar has been corrupted by the Fel and now has to find his way throughout the Broken Isles as a member of the Burning Legion, with his lover-turned-master Gul'dan by his side. Characters from the prepatch invasions make appearances and everyone's a part of one big evil demonic family. It's great!Until Khadgar has to attack Dalaran.





	1. There's sand in my asscrack, Master Gul'dan

It was too soon for Gul’dan’s liking that he was thrust into Azeroth. Khadgar’s enormous burst of power had tweaked the interest of Archimonde, who probed Gul’dan’s mind to see what was going on. There he discovered a lethal attachment to the mage-turned-demon and at once knew that Gul’dan would use Khadgar’s power for himself. So, before the two could get away from the sticky, green mess that was Destructor’s rise, Archimonde slammed a portal onto their prone bodies. Khadgar cried out and Gul’dan was there, gripping his wrist as they tumbled through the Twisting Nether. Gul’dan had a moment free of pain, buoyant and disoriented as darkness enveloped him. Then he hit the ground.

“Ghah!” Landing on his chest, Gul’dan winced as a sharp twinge ran down his spine. He raised his head and heard a soft hissing as sand fell out of his beard. The gentle whoosh of wind and waves surrounded his foggy mind. Gazing blearily at Khadgar kept him grounded.

Khadgar knew at once that he was in Azeroth, but could not sense the usual ley lines and destinations he knew. His head throbbed, especially where it had split open to make way for budding black horns. A little greenish black blood trickled down over his eyes. He sat up, feeling the task a colossal effort as his limbs weighed him down. Now a hundred kilos heavier than he was used to, Khadgar felt like his entire body was caving in on itself with every exhale. Inhaling however brought him stability as long as he stayed still. The clean, salty sea air flowed easily into lungs that could hold enough breath to cast a thick tome’s worth of spells. Khadgar blinked slowly, clawed hands supporting him as he leaned back in the sand. Now, his vision was clearing up. To his right was the deep blue ocean, a vast white-sanded shore stretching before him. Far enough left he could see some rocks and grass that rose into solid land, then further in the distance to jagged dark mountains. Khadgar’s eyes flicked down and widened at once. Gul’dan looked half dead, his robes tattered and wet with congealed fel. He raised his head and uttered a feeble cry that brought Khadgar beside him at once.

“Master!”

Khadgar clasped a hand over his own mouth. _‘What? Where did that come from?’_ In his shock he did not see Gul’dan’s crooked smile. The warlock raised a gnarled hand, pointing a sharp-nailed finger at Khadgar.

“You… know… where we are…?”

Khadgar nodded, but didn’t trust himself to speak. Not until Gul’dan curled his finger and forced the words out in a manner Khadgar had never experienced before. A cool rush of air bubbled from his lips and formed the word, _“Azeroth.”_

Gul’dan gasped, struggling to rise. Khadgar lifted him from beneath the arms and managed to gather the pile of green limbs into a hunched, seated orc. Now, Gul’dan cleared his mind and thought while in Khadgar’s lap.

 _‘He responds well to my command… our energies are tied. Already he seems eager to do my bidding.’_ Many warlocks summoned demons, most requiring obscene amounts of power to control, sate and keep quiet. Gul’dan knew he could suppress Khadgar’s voice and actions if he tried, for that was the way of the summoner. But here he had a unique relationship and curiosity poured a thousand questions into his mind. _‘What if I let him believe he has free will, the very same he has grown used to from his life as a respected Archmage?Certainly, that is the default here unless I decide otherwise. He is no weak demon to be cowed into submission, nor is he an overzealous pit lord needing to be beaten down. And…’_ Gul’dan looked up, his head just reaching Khadgar’s chest. _‘He responds like the enslaved ones do. Oh… it sounded so good…’_

Khadgar’s pale face sank into an expression of self-doubt, unsure of his very existence. Slowly, he spoke in his new, deep rumble.

“Gul’dan… what has happened to me?”

 _‘Hmph. At least he’s self aware.’_ Gul’dan raised a hand and observed Khadgar dip his head to meet it. Patting the demon’s cheek, he explained.

“You have reached your full potential.”

Indeed, Khadgar felt his own power far greater than what he remembered having a few moments ago. So much time had passed however that he wasn’t sure when he’d lost consciousness. It must’ve happened in the Nether. This was definitely not Draenor, and it felt more real and present when he checked his internal clock. Despite it being Azeroth, to Khadgar there was a sense of ethereal stillness as he sat here on the beach with Gul’dan.

“Why did I call you…”

“It is the Way.” Gul’dan interrupted him before he could get embarrassed. “You have nothing to fear, Khadgar. My power is yours. You are mine. And I am your…” He gestured for Khadgar to finish.

“Master. It feels right.” Khadgar nodded, the word sitting well in his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing out a heated growl. “Hrrrghhh…” The pain in his skull was beginning to bother him.

“Yes, good.” Gul’dan stroked his fingers down Khadgar’s throat, kneeling in his lap so he could reach. “A demon’s second best weapon is their voice. Yours shall develop soon, and you will be shouting curses in no time.”

Khadgar enjoyed the feeling of soft fingers against his neck – yes, Gul’dan felt _soft_ in comparison to his own tough, inhuman skin. It was smooth and showed his blood running through his veins as his heart sped up. He looked like he was coated in unbreakable, fel-infused porcelain.

“Are you injured?” Gul’dan murmured, his own back aching but not enough for him to suspect internal wounds. Khadgar opened his bluish green eyes to gaze sadly at Gul’dan.

“My head hurts.”

Gul’dan had never seen a demon pout before. Most were too scared to even emote before him. The sound of Khadgar’s quiet, pathetic little whine made his heart twist and the Darkness Incarnate felt _empathy._

“It will, for some time.” Gul’dan said, his voice gentle as he stroked Khadgar’s jaw. “It is a part of your growth.”

“Nnnhhh…” Khadgar slumped his shoulders, head down.

“Pain is weakness fading, Khadgar. Know that you will be a fine, strong demon when all this is over.”

Khadgar blinked, his eyes glazed with a light yellow sheen. “But… I don’t want to be a demon. I’ve been human all my life, and… oh, Light, I can’t even feel the arcane!”

“Shh, shh…” Gul’dan stood and wrapped his arms around Khadgar’s neck, the chin length locks of flaming hair not burning him one bit. “You don’t need the arcane. You have the Fel. Command of it is much the same… it just requires a few sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices…?” Khadgar whimpered. “I’ve never had to sacrifice anything but my own energy to cast. What have you _done_ to me?”

Gul’dan could feel Khadgar’s mind turning to near hysteria and subjugated it at once, his hand grasping the back of Khadgar’s head.

_“This is who you are. Who you have become. You are mine, Khadgar, and there is no turning back. I command you to be calm.”_

Gul’dan’s voice filled Khadgar’s mind. It echoed through every cell, jumped along synapses and spread to become solid understanding. Khadgar stilled, his racing heart taking a minute or so to calm down. He blinked a few times, breathing softly. Where had his sudden anxiety gone?

“Master…”

“Good boy.” Gul’dan petted Khadgar’s head, looking into his eyes. “Now… Stand up. We cannot stay here forever.” He stepped onto the sand beside Khadgar as the demon stood, twice Gul’dan’s height. The warlock had an idea. “Carry me.”

Khadgar obeyed without question, not even thinking about it as he picked up Gul’dan and put him on his shoulders. Gul’dan sent waves of soothing energy into Khadgar’s mind to dull his headache, and Khadgar purred in response.

“That way.” Gul’dan pointed up the beach. He felt the acute sense of loss then, being so accustomed to pointing with his staff. _‘Urgh. I will have to make another one.’_

Khadgar took a step forwards, unsteady on his bare feet. Then he started to walk, his flaming hair streaming behind him. It warmed Gul’dan but was bright enough to bother his eyes, so he muttered a few words to shape the fire down. Khadgar had a burning bob cut with flaming ringlets that would make any demon swoon. Gul’dan had no time to admire him now, though. He was looking into the forest on the left and now guiding Khadgar towards it. Strong dark energy radiated from this place and familiar sights began to crop up the further they went. Huge, jagged obsidian pillars glinted in the sunlight. The air was thick with potential for demon holes and meteor clouds. It looked like servants of the Legion had done some recon here and found the place suitable for conquering. Then, knowledge came to Gul’dan.

- _Yes…-_

That was Kil’jaeden’s voice. Gul’dan clutched Khadgar’s shoulders as he listened.

_-Yes, we will come. Soon. Others are here, the enemies Khadgar once called allies. Avoid them. Go to the tomb.-_

‘ _Tomb?’_ Gul’dan looked around. _‘I see no tomb…’_

_-What are you, Drek’thar? You can’t see, you fool? **Feel**.-_

Gul’dan flushed with shame and closed his eyes. At once, a throb of energy called to him. Khadgar seemed to have felt it too and walked in the direction he was pulled. Up grassy ground and over sharp boulders he carried Gul’dan until two tall spires came into view. Higher he went, using his hands to scale a cliff and finally to pull himself atop it. There, in the distance was the most majestic building he had ever seen. Ancient and otherworldly, the Tomb of Sargeras looked more like a palace than anything else. Made of pure black stone and with spikes jutting from every window, it rose a few hundred meters into the air. Khadgar gaped. Kil’jaeden laughed inside Gul’dan’s head.

_-Ahaha… now do you see? There you must go.-_

The cliff offered a viewpoint but nothing more. There was a stretch of water between it and the island where the tomb lay. To cross that, Khadgar would have to make his way down and then swim. That, or…

_‘I need a boat.’_

_-Then find one. The Wardens have their camp nearby. Do not let them find you.-_

_‘You don’t have to tell me…’_ Gul’dan tapped Khadgar’s head. “Let us go back down. We must reach that island.”

So the descent began.

It was late in the afternoon when Khadgar crouched amongst thick leafed trees, Gul’dan peering with his glowing red eyes. The sound of voices by the sea had intrigued them both.

“There.” Tents and boats were visible, along with many cloaked figures moving about. “We wait until they sleep.”

“Okay.” Khadgar shuffled back, finding a rock to sit on. Gul’dan eased his way into Khadgar’s lap and sat there, head against the demon’s broad chest. The lack of questions bothered him somewhat but he could not sense any immediate distress within Khadgar.

 _‘I suppose he accepts what is going on. Good._ ’

To pass the time, Gul’dan let himself relax enough to nap in Khadgar’s arms. Khadgar easily cradled him and ensured no insects came around. Nothing living even dared approach the demon and his master. Such was the power of the Burning Legion.


	2. Pitlords Can't Fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bee movie

As night descended upon the Wardens’ camp, so too did the shadow-cloaked demon and his master. Gul’dan used his own power to ensure he and Khadgar moved without detection upon the pale sand. Stealing a boat was easy, but the rowing was not. Gul’dan handed the oars to Khadgar and pointed to Thal’Dranath, the island upon which the Tomb of Sargeras lay. Few who lived remembered the island’s ancient name, but Khadgar remembered something he’d read many years ago and informed Gul’dan of it. Gul’dan narrowed his eyes.

“It does not matter. Row.”

So Khadgar did. It took _hours_. Upon reaching the shore, Khadgar reached for Gul’dan but the warlock was already trudging through the sand as fast as he could.

“Master, wait for me!” Khadgar stumbled and tried to catch up with Gul’dan, who was now limned in fel green energy. Gul’dan beckoned aggressively.

“Come! The tomb is right there, waiting for me…”

- _GO.-_ Kil’jaeden urged the warlock and once near enough, began whispering soft words of encouragement. The immense demonic power emanating from this old, corrupted ruin was chokingly seductive, clawing at Gul’dan. It gave rise to a deep lust that Gul’dan could not resist, and he snapped a quick order at Khadgar.

“Stay here and keep watch. Kill anything that approaches.”

Khadgar, rubbing his exhausted forearms with stiff, clawed hands, whined.

“But…  it doesn’t look too safe in there. Are you sure you wouldn’t-”

“JUST WAIT!” Gul’dan snarled, before disappearing into the dark tomb. Khadgar sat down on a fallen pillar and sighed. At least he could rest a little. His surroundings were still and silent. He noticed that this did not look like a place created by demons at all – night elven architecture lay scattered about, eroded by water, sand and time. The darkness creeping from the tomb’s open entrance was corrupting the ground, though it stopped after about twenty meters. Chanting could be heard from inside the tomb. There was a sealed entrance deep within, one that was actually warded in comparison to the open black hole Khadgar now guarded. A loud crack sounded underground and Khadgar turned his head.

_‘I hope… he knows what he’s doing.’_

Gul’dan did. With the aid of Kil’jaeden and none to oppose him, he shattered the five seals that concealed ancient power from him with glee. And in his ecstasy he did not hear Kil’jaeden laughing, no, _cackling_ at his wanton servitude. The power he’d just unlocked was sucked from his being and he gasped, overcome with sudden loss. The tomb was not simply using it, it was consuming it. Kil’jaeden channeled it through the warlock’s body and a cacophony of deafening sounds heralded the creation of a bridge that joined two worlds. Suddenly the way was open. Air rushed from another plane of existence, roaring through the chamber at hurricane speeds. Outside the tomb, Khadgar had been facing away from the entrance, eyes burning as the air turned acrid. A chorus of screeches erupted behind him. He risked a glance back and nearly collapsed. The ground was soon writhing, swarming with the vanguard of an army that sought to conquer all. The sky was darkening, hidden behind a blooming tower of green smoke that rose from the tomb’s pinnacle. Khadgar had never seen so many demons in one place before and flattened himself against a massive boulder as all the colourful, flaming, horned beasts spilled out of the tomb. And then Gul’dan was there, floating in the sky, staring at what he had unleashed.

Kil’jaeden came.

 

The Wardens in their camp had not expected this, and Maiev took one look at the winged host approaching on dark wings and signaled for a retreat.

“Take what you can and head to the vault! You, to Dalaran! You, to Stormwind and you to Orgrimmar. The rest, follow me. We will need the Illidari for this.”

Everyone mounted up and obeyed without question, though the few Maiev had accompanying her to the Vault of the Wardens were unsure. They knew how much she hated the Illidari. Illidan Stormrage was also in the Vault, albeit fifty shades of dead and defeated…

“Come on!” Maiev shouted. “Unless you feel like being skinned alive by that lot.” She gestured to the demons who were in fact much larger than they had looked in the distance. The Wardens didn’t need to be told twice.

 

~

 

While Varian,Vol’jin and Jaina were being informed of the Legion’s arrival, Khadgar was watching madness unfold. Before his eyes, structures were forming out of the blackened, twisting ground. Rivers of bright green fel burst open and rushed over newly risen cliffs, imitating waterfalls and burning great pools into rock and dirt alike. Acidic smoke curled from dying plant life, leathery wings beat the air into a heated frenzy of ember and steam, and earsplitting cries made Khadgar cringe deep into his soul. First came the Felguards, then the Doomguards and Terrorguards, hounds nipping at their heels and imps blithely screeching as they ran forth. Dreadlords, Pitlords, Commanders, Generals and Lieutenants all strode out of the tomb’s morphed entrance and Khadgar felt the ground shake as tunnels were formed below, yet more demons issuing from the portal. They were creating their own garrisons, forges, constructs and secondary portals all over Thal’dranath. Khadgar could only stay where he was as the Burning Legion conquered the entire island. Gul’dan floated down and picked him up, encasing him in a bubble to drag him into the air, where he was less likely to be trampled.

Khadgar turned to his master, speechless. Gul’dan smiled a filthy, arrogant smile.

“It begins.”

The site around the Tomb of Sargeras was not the most hospitable place – a large hold off to the southwest was being created where Gul’dan took Khadgar and sought to settle in. The gates were guarded by two giant Mo’arg, each four times Khadgar’s size.

“No entry for you.” said the one on the left. “Still building.”

“Go over there.” The one on the right pointed a thick finger to a cliff where a tall red demon was holding another up on his shoulders, trying to see if there were any intruders at the southern shore. “Keep watch.”

Gul’dan merely wanted a moment of peace and quiet, and though it irked him that there would be no comfortable rooms to sit in, he was glad to be away from the chaos. The Burning Legion was in fact chaos incarnate and sometimes it was just too loud and eye-searingly painful for him to deal with. So, while everyone else sorted out their ranks and operations, Gul’dan sat on the flat obsdian ground with Khadgar by his side.

He waited.

And waited.

Until Kil’jaeden addressed him. The summons came at night, when the roiling black clouds in the sky had parted for green lightning and demon holes.

_-YOU WILL HAVE PLENTY OF TIME TO ADMIRE THE METEOR SHOWERS LATER, GUL’DAN. COME TO ME.-_

The tireless Lords of the Burning Legion were holding a council, and Gul’dan was invited.

_‘May I… bring my servant?’_

_-NO.-_

Gul’dan sighed. There was no arguing with a being that could smite him with less than a fart. He got to his feet and manipulated the fel energy in the air to propel himself towards the summit of a huge black mountain. A green blight spilled down in rivulets through the cracks in the stone. At the very top was a column of yellowish light – Gul’dan’s destination. Kil’jaeden’s will guided him and he left Khadgar to sleep on his side just by the edge of the cliff. Khadgar felt his Master’s warmth seep away and sat up, unable to see for a few moments.

 _‘So… dark…’_ He squinted. Directly below him was a sheer drop and boiling pits bubbled a few hundred feet below. Demons were gliding about, stretching their wings and practising their moves. Distant clashes alerted Khadgar to some sort of combat training going on, and he stood, turning around only to find a set of grey pectoral muscles in his face. He craned his neck up. There, standing before him was a thickset Eredar with golden rings around his facial tentacles and a gleaming cleverness in his red eyes. The demon knelt, one hoof scraping the stone floor.

“What are your orders, child?”

Immediate fear kept Khadgar from screeching out a curse. “I… have no orders. And I’m _not_ a child, I’m fifty years old.”

The demon laughed. “And I am almost seven thousand. Little man-thing, you look lost.” He tilted Khadgar’s head from side to side with an easy field of manipulative energy. The loss of control frightened the former Archmage deeper into knee-jerk responses.

“My Master went somewhere. I wait.”

Crimson eyes narrowed, their inner flame dimming just a tad. “Then you must find something to do in the meantime. Come with me.”

Khadgar was pulled along on a shadowy leash to a bridge teeming with demons, their voices rumbling and low. They were all moving in a single direction – Khadgar realised none of them could fly – up the side of a mountain in a great big line. With a mental _snap_ , Khadgar was left alone and he barely registered his temporary companion saying something about ‘young ones and their attitudes’.

Khadgar climbed the uphill path lined with braziers and veins of glowing fel until he came to a wide plateau. Walls of rock rose around it, enclosing the vast area yet leaving the sky clear enough for summoning. He stared. Hundreds of demons were gathered here, their bodies numerous colours, shapes and sizes. Hooves trodded on hard black stone, clawed fingers gestured in the air, and the tongue of Eredun flowed from fanged mouths. Khadgar wandered closer, into the area. These were no training grounds. Nearly all of the demons were minding their own business, sitting or laying on the ground. Those who were injured had a green glow as they were being tended to, some with ripped wings and entire limbs missing. Some had been hurt in the initial stampede. Khadgar nearly stepped on an imp as a swarm of them ran past him.

 _‘This must be a rest camp or something. I… did not know demons needed sleep.’_ Most of the demons he saw laying around were near the same size as him, some even smaller. Quite a few had little horns and youthful faces. Three of them were clustered around a Fel Lord who was absently casting magic to entertain himself. Warmth emanated from his bony grey hands.

Khadgar continued walking. In one corner close to the mountainside he saw a group of imps tormenting a caged Felhound, capering in circles. Also along the rocky walls and protruding from the ground were black stone basins of varying heights. It was a few meters from one of these that a powerful presence drew his attention. Khadgar’s eyes fixed upon one of the largest demons he had ever seen. Snoozing on its side was a Pit Lord, similar in size and species to Mannoroth. Khadgar had never seen one this close and unguarded before. He crept forwards, noticing how there were few others around him. Clearly, this guy enjoyed his space. But not too much – Khadgar saw another demon curled around the Pit Lord’s upper body. Its blue shade of skin looked familiar, somehow… and it recognized him when he stopped just a few steps away.

“…I know you…” the demon slurred. Khadgar raised his hands in defense, shaking them back and forth.

“No, no, I’m sure you don’t.”

“Your eyes…” The demon raised his head, curved horns coming into view after being shadowed in darkness. Khadgar nearly shit himself.

“Abraxxas?!”

Abraxxas sighed. “Gad’kar. I knew it was you. Gul’dan’s aura clings to you like boiling syrup to flesh.” He climbed over his former resting place and the Pit Lord stirred, reaching for him. He paused, hovering in mid-step. Khadgar raised an eyebrow.

“Who… is that?”

“Commander Zeth’gor, of course.”

 _“Supreme_ Commander to you, boy.” Zeth’gor’s voice carried an unworldly depth that went beyond the reach of mortal ears. Khadgar felt his own chest vibrate as the Pit Lord spoke. Abraxxas inclined his head, respectfully laying a hand upon Zeth’gor’s upper arm. He gave him a burst of power and helped him sit up, legs folded beneath his scaled lower body. Khadgar could not help but gape in awe. Zeth’gor, being not from the Citadel of the past, narrowed his glowing blue eyes.

“Who is this?”

“Gad’kar. Former orc warlock from Hellfire Citadel.” Abraxxas frowned. “You don’t _look_ like an orc any more…”

“Eheh…” Khadgar grinned nervously, deciding to change the subject. Being known as an orc-illusioned human infiltrator of the past wasn’t going to get him anywhere. “So, I see you were reconstructed nicely?”

“Er, yes.” Abraxxas’s red eyes darted around. “Fate has been kind to me for once.”

Zeth’gor curled his fingers around Abraxxas’s shoulder, his own greyish blue skin looking aged and faded against the Dreadlord’s vibrant blue.

“Fate, or the Necromancer’s mercy? When I found you in Argus, you did not seem so grateful.”

Abraxxas winced but leaned back against Zeth’gor’s thick upper body, standing at half his height. “Let’s not speak of that now. You are awake and surely have better things to do, hm?”

“Indeed.” Zeth’gor turned his head to regard Khadgar, his motion sluggish yet eyes blazing with alert energy. “Gad’kar. Come. You look like you could use a drink.”

Khadgar stared up at him and nearly lost his balance as the Pit Lord began to walk. The ground shook with every step and Khadgar could see Zeth’gor’s muscles straining to shift his massive bulk forwards. Demons scurried out of his way and his dark wings batted others aside. There was an ancient, weary grace about him that made Khadgar see him as more than a powerful, lumbering beast. When had he grown so understanding of demons? He did not know. Only that he felt good about assimilating and that there was a familiar face nearby. Abraxxas watched, using spectral sight to lock onto what the two were doing. What Zeth’gor wanted with a runt like Gad’kar was beyond him, but it was not his place to interfere.

Zeth’gor reached a wide, tall basin full of bubbling green Fel. A few other demons who were big enough to drink from it had their faces and hands in the stuff – Fel was always clean, burning away any other substances, so it was fine enough to share. A stack of imps were standing to let the one on top lick at the edge of the basin and Zeth’gor shoved them all to the ground with a grunt. They sprinted off to cluster around one of the fel pits in the ground, taking energy from the safer vessel. Khadgar slowed as he reached the basin, a few demons looking at him with judgemental and curious eyes. Zeth’gor clenched one hand into a fist and raised a bit of the ground up for Khadgar to stand on. Khadgar did so and peered into the glowing goop. The last time he’d tasted the stuff, it had burned him to the point of making his skeleton want to escape his body. Unsure, he looked to the Pit Lord who had already stuck his face in and was gulping down the thick green liquid. Khadgar dipped his hand in and gasped softly. Rather than scorching his skin off and peeling muscle from bone, the Fel was warm and soothing to his demonic flesh. Khadgar lifted a handful of the stuff to his mouth and sipped. Energy he didn’t know he’d missed now returned to his soul and he found himself leaning in to taste some more.

 _‘This must be our food source… and it seems infinite. I wonder how it works?’_ He made a mental note to ask Abraxxas about that later. It made sense that demons would be beyond things like meat and fruit – if the Burning Legion’s goal was to destroy all life, it would take omnivorous demons with it. A rush of excitement thrilled Khadgar’s formerly mortal mind. He would never hunger again, now that the oozing green stuff that killed any mortal it touched could sustain him. It came right out of the Twisting Nether when the demons called it, like a manifestation of all the cruelty the Legion had wrought. As if… particles of negative energy could take physical form and continue doing so in an eternal cycle. While Khadgar drank, his thoughts became clearer, deeper and extended beyond the world he knew. Now, the Legion’s world had welcomed him and it was his present, potentially his future too. Lifting his head, he felt a slight lurch as his budding horns upset his balance. They had a little more weight to them now, sticking further out of his head. Tentatively he touched one with his sticky left hand. There was no pain from this recent growth, and if there was he could feel only the joy and energy from drinking in the Fel. Khadgar smiled. Zeth’gor finally raised his head and rubbed the back of his neck, liquid dripping from his long tusks and enormous curved horns. Leaning one huge arm on the edge of the basin, he gazed at Khadgar. He could see no wings or tail on this demon and knew what that meant.

“…You were once human, were you not?”

Khadgar tried not to flinch, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Y…yes, I was.”

“And you are young.” Zeth’gor could tell from Khadgar’s demeanor and appearance. “Very, very young. Tell me, will you fight your former kind if I command it?”

Khadgar thought about it, envisioning meteor strikes upon the mages of the Kirin Tor. A sharp pain twisted his chest hard enough for him to cough, and Zeth’gor scrutinized him with those merciless, narrow eyes. Khadgar knew he had to say something quickly, so he lied.

“If my master commands it, I obey.” He looked into Zeth’gor’s eyes with an attempt at defiance but that died the minute he beheld the Pit Lord’s face. Zethgor laughed, the sound clicking in his throat.

“A warlock’s pet, are you? Hmph. It is in your _Master_ ’s best interests to ensure you listen to those greater than you.” He lifted a handful of fel and swallowed it, uncaring for the rest that leaked down the corners of his mouth. “Mrngh. If Sargeras himself ordered you to lead the charge against a village of unarmed humans, would you do it?”

Khadgar giggled nervously, his acting making a few surrounding demons cringe. “O-of course, is that even a question?” He knew that Zeth’gor knew that he was bullshitting, but as long as the Pit Lord played along… this was fine.

Zeth’gor shifted a bit, his spiked tail sweeping the ground. “Let me tell you something, child.” He flicked a finger and a huge swirling circle of green appeared in the sky, black clouds gathering around it. “We are the Burning Legion, and we serve one Master alone. Warlock-owned or not, we belong to Sargeras. We belong with each other. Not enslaved by pathetic orcs and elves.”

“Mhm.” A demon with his face in the basin looked up to agree. So did a few others, for they knew well of Zeth’gor’s legendary wisdom. Khadgar could not help but be affected by the words, spoken with power and absolute belief. Zeth’gor continued.

“Our time is now to command and conquer. The fools of the past have no place among us. Man’ari, Nazrethim, Ered’ruin, all know their place. But your _Master,_ Gad’kar, does not. He is Gul’dan the Greedy and obeying him will be your doom.”

Khadgar was slighted by the Pit Lord’s comment and clenched his hands into fists. Seeing this, Zeth’gor stepped backwards from the basin and smirked.

“You disagree?” As Khadgar went to decide what to do, Zeth’gor raised his hand. He did not feel like conflict today and instead patted Khadgar’s head. “I do not blame you. A warlock’s claws sunk deep enough can rot even the sharpest of demon minds.”

Khadgar believed indeed that Gul’dan’s way was the only right way, and that he knew what was best. Now, Zeth’gor made him doubt that.

 _‘My mind is my own, is it not? It always has been… and it still feels thus…’_ The loss of bodily control had not come upon him, not as he assumed it would, anyway. Gul’dan had let him do as he liked so far, and Khadgar suspected nothing at all. He did however feel like Zeth’gor’s massive hand was crushing him, the weight of it nearly half his own body’s. The Pit Lord straightened his back, folding his arms before his broad chest.

“In time you will see.” Then, without another word he turned and made his way to where Abraxxas was waiting for him. The dreadlord moved to clear some space and glanced at Khadgar for a moment.

 _“I need to ask you something.”_ Khadgar tried, his telepathy weak and untested when it came to probing such a complex, unfamiliar mind. Abraxxas raised an eyebrow then stumbled a bit as Zeth’gor sat beside him. The Pit Lord reached for his companion’s tail and tugged on it, bringing Abraxxas close to him. Zeth’gor groaned softly, just about ready to collapse from the effort of existing. Abraxxas shooed Khadgar away, his voice penetrating an open mind with the words, _“I’ll deal with you later.”_

Khadgar left the two demons to their relaxing. Brimming with energy, he felt like he could leap into the air and fly. He could not, of course, having no wings yet… but he wondered when he would grow them. Nearly everyone else had.

_‘I will ask Master.’_

~

Gul’dan wrung his hands. He was sitting at a huge black table surrounded by beings more than thrice his size. Kil’jaeden himself was present as an enormous, shadowy avatar with wispy darkness clinging to his bare red skin. In the center of the table was the focus of his attention – a globe representing Azeroth. Gul’dan was seated opposite Kil’jaeden and was eagerly listening to the conversation going on in rapid Eredun.

“What will our first move be?” asked Lord Kazzak, leaning in to read the names of all the places on the globe.

“Discuss ideas.” Kil’jaeden stopped the globe and pointed at the Broken Isles. “We have too many forces to contain on these meager islands, so amassing an army here will not be our first goal. Conquering Azeroth will.”

“Yes, yes…” Iroxus, a purplish-black Pit Lord tapped his claws together. “It will be more beneficial to summon forces as needed whilst in the middle of an invasion. Then, the lands we take will both contain our forces _and_ fall to them.”

“Obviously.” Kil’jaeden pointed to Stormwind. “Here is the Human capital. Their strength is not to be underestimated – they once fought off many, many Scourge and brought down a Necropolis. Magical might before physical will do well there, and the element of surprise is a must.” He looked around at the gathered demons and single warlock, grinning. “We will kill them _all_.”

“The necromancers will have much to do back on Argus.” said Dread Commander Arganoth, having the ear of the hardworking demons on their home planet. “I suspect we will begin to see the dead return weakened and confused. Immediate resurrections to bolster our forces will be necessary if the enemy cuts through us quickly enough.”

Kil’jaeden looked at him. “You think they’re stronger than us?”

“No, no.” Arganoth raised a hand. “I mean our basic infantry. The summoners, the Felguards, the imps and so on. I do recall many invasions having been thwarted by the humans’ sheer numbers and collective power, physical and magical combined.”

“Then we send _you_ , smartass.” Kil’jaeden huffed. “You and a Dreadlord, maybe a squadron of Felguard Punishers. The humans have always feared _them_.”

“A single invasion to test their defences will not do.” said Kazzak, shaking his bright red head. “They will be wary and know we have come. Why give them the chance to prepare for us? We should annihilate their strongholds simultaneously.”

“Hm.” Kil’jaeden turned the globe, marking with green dots places like Undercity, Westfall, Gadgetzan and some others. Then in red he marked Orgrimmar and Stormwind. “Fine ideas from one who stood in place for years, waiting to be killed.”

“I was waiting for orders…” Kazzak muttered. Then he glanced at the globe. “…What are you planning?”

“Destruction.” Images filled the minds of all listening. “Buildings will burn. Monuments will crumble. We will scour the ground with felfire and annihilate their cities.” Kil’jaeden looked as if he was mid-orgasm as he spoke, face alight with malicious glee. “Oh, it will be _marvelous_. Every last one of them will die.”

Gul’dan did not share the Deceiver’s love for wanton chaos. In all honesty, now that he was back on Azeroth he wanted nothing more than to settle in a nice cave with Khadgar and live out his life with all the power he could ever want. Kil’jaeden had not yet given him the augmented strength he had been promised for opening the portal. He waited. And stewed. A few thoughts prickled at his mind – the Legion planned genocide against his own people, the orcs. The orcs he had betrayed, yes, but his people nonetheless. He had never felt kinship with any of them aside from Ner’zhul, all shunning him as he sought the power that would make him feel _worthy_. It had only ended with the orcs hating him instead of fearing and respecting him like they did amongst each other. When he’d obtained the strength to make them take him seriously, they cared little for it was not physical, not _natural_. Now he was gifted with more power than any warlock on Azeroth, but was surrounded by those who commanded much more. Even now as fel energy crackled around him, thickened the air and flashed across the sky, he felt useless. The demons barely glanced at him and when they did, they disregarded him with haughty scorn. He knew what he looked like to them, a power-hungry, shriveled little warlock. Despite all his efforts to serve the Legion he was _still_ treated as a pest, a peon, a tool. Kil’jaeden’s plaything.

The conversation continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abraxxas actually looks like a doomguard (see: blue version of Supreme Lord Kazzak, and skinnier), not a dreadlord  
> but he says he's a dreadlord anyway xD here, some pics.  
> [Abraxxas](https://65.media.tumblr.com/d730169f785df46389e01caa0e228f77/tumblr_inline_oe1eqqwTNq1s9723c_540.png) , [Zeth'gor](https://67.media.tumblr.com/4a2d4710be9e10d2b4d9a56267906eac/tumblr_inline_oe1emfmFVr1s9723c_540.png)


End file.
